


Can I read my book, please?

by MaeLovesStories



Series: Lost in Translation [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, POV Roronoa Zoro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 01:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13776387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaeLovesStories/pseuds/MaeLovesStories
Summary: Zoro, Sanji, on Sundays.





	Can I read my book, please?

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the first fic I translated. I'm pretty happy with this one, but as stated in the series description, English is not my first language so there are probably some mistakes or wrong choice of words/wording. I would be really grateful if you could point them to me, as I see it as a good way to improve my English. Thank you!

Zoro loved Sundays. For a whole lot of different reasons. The first, and the most important, the one that allowed all the others to exist: he was not working. Neither he nor Sanji. Not working meant getting up at no time, and spending the rest of the day lazing around. Cocooning, like Sanji would say. He could spend the entire day in bed if he wanted, doing a whole lot of activities, all as different as the reasons why he loved Sundays. The first one: sleeping. It was the one he preferred, and the one he practiced diligently and contentedly every week. He could also read, surf the internet on his laptop, listen to music, watch a movie... the possibilities were endless. But that was the solitary activities, those he would do when Sanji would go about in the apartment, unable to stay put too long without doing anything. He loved them, it was undeniable, but he preferred widely when Sanji was with him. Lying next to him on the mattress or sitting against the headboard. Winter was a particularly interesting season for that. Cold would urge them to hide under the covers, snuggling against each other, Sanji leaving the warmth of the cocoon only the time needed to prepare some hot chocolate, or cook a batch of cookies they would eat still lukewarm in the middle of the bedsheets.

In short, Sundays was their day. No friends to bother them, not a word exchanged about their respective jobs. They would go out of their apartment only if it was strictly necessary, which was very rare, and both were perfectly happy with that.

One of the activities that he preferred doing with Sanji was kissing him, running his hands or his mouth over his body. Slowly, for they have time. Enjoying the shivers, the sighs he would provoke. The sex on Sundays was slower, more loving, but just as satisfying. If not more. The feelings they felt for each other were right on the surface in those moments. It would often leave Zoro breathless. To rediscover each week how much Sanji loved him, through his gestures, his words whispered in his ear. He still had a little trouble understanding why he loved him so much. Sanji had repeated him so many times what he loved about him, from the smallest flaw to the highest quality. But he was not yet convinced. It would still be many Sundays before Zoro will fully accept that he was valuable in Sanji’s eyes, that he could be loved as much as he loved. Sometimes he wondered if Sanji had the same difficulty understanding. Maybe not. He was Sanji after all.

But this Sunday, Zoro felt sulky. That morning, they woke up, not too early, but still too much for Zoro’s taste, they had kissed, they had caressed each others for a few minutes, then Sanji had got up. He had returned nearly an hour later with breakfast, that they had shared in silence, then he was gone again, probably to tidy up and clean everything, and Zoro had not seen him ever since.

The bedroom door was ajar. He had heard him while he was cleaning, but since a few moments, nothing anymore. The complete silence. What could he be doing?

Stretched out on the mattress, a pillow behind his head, Zoro scratched his stomach absentmindedly. In his way down, slow but steady, from his sitting position in which he had lunch to the one he was currently in, his tank top had got up, stuck in the sheets. It was not really cold, so it was useless to spend energy trying to get it back down. And if Sanji finally decided to return to the bedroom, he hoped that the sight of his flat stomach and a part of his six-pack would give him naughty ideas. A little smirk formed on his lips at the thought. It was the only effort he was willing to make on Sundays. He was often told he was lazy, or a slacker, because of it, but Sanji could say all he wanted, in those moments he was far from being lazy. The images that flashed in his mind slowly awakened his desire. Sanji was always so sexy and perfect when they were making love...

Many minutes passed without his noticing, his mind still occupied by Sanji’s body. Should he get up to see what he was doing? No. Too hard.

“Sanji?” he called the loudest he could without spending too much energy.

A distracted grunt answered before the silence falls again. Zoro listened attentively, but nothing gave him any indication of what was going on outside the bedroom. He now had two options. First, keep calling Sanji until he snaps and come see what he wanted. But given the tone of his grunt earlier, he would be in a bad mood and it was not at all what he was looking for. The second solution, he liked it way less, but desperate times call for desperate measures, as the other said. This solution was to get up, to see what he was doing, and distract him enough to make him understand what he wanted. But that meant he had to get up. Leave his bed. A Sunday! The sex had better be good! Not that there has ever been bad sex with Sanji. These two ideas seemed perfectly incompatible.

He let several more minutes pass. In case Sanji will come back without him having to get up. But no, still nothing. He sighed, scratched his belly again, and then strategically rolled on his side. It was easier to get up like that. Proven and effective tactic of an expert of laziness. It was then relatively easy to get his legs over the edge of the bed, and with a slight abs contraction, he finally found himself in a sitting position. He took a few seconds to yawn, stretch, then get his tank top down, as well as the legs of his gray sweatpant which has also got up at one time or another.

Well, it was time. With effort, and always in the greatest silence, he stood up and slowly made the few steps that would allow him to cross the bedroom’s threshold. Fortunately, the apartment was small, the bedroom opening right in the living/dining-room/kitchen, and he immediately spotted Sanji, lounging on the couch. He was sat between the back and armrest, and was showing him his back. He was leaning his head over something. Without a sound, a predatory smile on his lips, Zoro moved cautiously forward. He walked around the couch, went behind it before returning on the good side. Sanji still hadn’t moved, and he didn’t even know if he had noticed him. Yet a mere glance up would allow Sanji to see him now. He shrugged, then continued his progress while studying his partner. He had put his reading glasses on and was absorbed in a book. He should have known better. He had started it a few days ago, and couldn’t let go of it.

Accepting the mission, he went up on the couch on his knees, and filled the last few inches. A slight frown informed him that he had finally been spotted. Whatever. He let one of his hands run over an exposed thigh, slowly moving up to the hip. With amusement, he noticed the little blond hairs, barely visible, standing up on Sanji’s bare arms. Good. He was receptive. His other leg was raised, supporting the heavy book. That restricted him a little in his possibilities, but he would find a way around the difficulty. He focused on the leg in his reach. He went up, up, feeling the muscles tighten under his palm. But before reaching this strategic point, he lowered his hand slowly to the calf, and the exposed ankle. And then he went up again just as slowly. The pupils had frozen, fixed on a point in the middle of the page.

“What do you want?” Sanji asked gruffly to hide his growing interest.

“Nothing,” he said, almost in a whisper, in his deep voice that titillated Sanji so much.

He went over his hip, his playful fingers brushing against his lower abdomen, before moving away, to trace the lines of his side, his belly, everything he could reach in this position.

“Stop that.”

“Why? You don’t like it?”

“I try to read.”

Zoro didn’t retaliate, keeping for himself the choice of words that betrayed him. He was ‘trying’ to read, he was not ‘reading’. Knowing already that he had succeeded, he gained in audacity. He brought his face closer to his, and pressed his lips to his jaw. Sanji had leaned his head to the opposite side to stop him from doing it, but he had foreseen the move and acted accordingly. His lips slid to his neck, his ear, then they closed on his earlobe and a sigh escaped Sanji.

“Can I read my book, please?!” grumbled the latter.

“No.”

His tone was firm but suave. He knew the effect it produced on Sanji. And it didn’t fail. A shiver traveled through him, from feet to head, and his gaze, until then resolutely fixed on his book, turned to him.

Zoro hid his winning smile by putting once again his mouth against his skin. This time, Sanji let him, even tilted his head slightly to make it easier for him to reach his neck. Zoro took advantage of it. With his free hand that wasn’t supporting his weight, he took the book and closed it, making sure not to lose the page, and put it on the sofa behind him. Defeated, Sanji no longer resisted. He resettled himself against the armrest, spread his legs and pulled Zoro to him with an arm around his shoulders. He let himself go, lying against him, their torsos overlapping. His mouth went toward his, and there was a little explosion of light under his eyelids when their lips met and they finally kissed. The kiss lasted several minutes, leaving them breathless. They exchanged a look, understood each other and smiled. Sanji took off his glasses, closed them, and placed them on the small table near the sofa. In turn, he ran his hands over Zoro's body, lingering on his shoulders, his back, before landing on his muscular bottom. Zoro groaned as he massaged it, and his hips moved on their own accord looking for friction, more contact, anything that could relieve the pressure in his pants.

Control escaped him slowly. Sanji’s long hands let go of his ass then went up along his sides before getting lost in his hair. Sanji’s mouth found his, and impatience seized Zoro.

“Bedroom. Now,” he growled between kisses, his hips more active than ever.

His remark, almost an order, made Sanji laugh. After a last kiss, a last sigh, he pushed him away.This time Zoro did not waste time getting up. He grabbed Sanji’s hand and pulled him to him. As soon as Sanji was standing, he wrapped his arm around his waist, put his other hand on his jaw, and took possession of his mouth while pushing him toward their bedroom. Sanji was already starting to lift Zoro's tank top to remove it. He got rid of it before reaching the door, throwing it somewhere on the floor, before pushing back the wooden panel behind him. In seconds, they reached the bed. He pushed Sanji back, following him in his fall, a hand behind his neck to cushion the impact. And there the course of their Sunday resumed normally. Things were back to their right place, where they should be. He and Sanji, in bed, indulging in their favorite Sunday activity.


End file.
